Meant to Be?
by Jen
Summary: A night in a motel on a case leads to an unexpected surprise. Written in Scully first person point of view.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**I wrote (or rather started) this story some time ago, during the 6th season. I completed it after Requiem was aired (further details in ending Author's notes). I decided to give it a post here as I begin to edit through some fanfiction with a hopefully better trained eye :). It may reappear in a few months time edited a bit. Enjoy! :)**

**SPOILERS: **Never Again, Emily, The End, The Ghosts That Stole Christmas. This story takes place in the 6th season, after The Ghosts That Stole Christmas but before any other episode of the season. Sort of an alternate universe.  
**KEYWORDS:** Mulder/Scully romance, babyfic, Alternate Universe.  
**SUMMARY: **A night in a motel on a case leads to an unexpected surprise. Written in   
Scully first-person POV.  
**  
DISCLAIMER:** Mine? As if.  
  


****"Meant to Be?"****  
**By Jen******  


  
It happened. Yes, it happened. What might you ask is it? That's the question I've   
been asking myself for the last two hours. The question I've been asking myself over and over again as I pace the worn, light blue carpet of yet another motel room.  
  
Yes, a motel room. Of all places why did it happen in a motel room? I've never   
pictured "this" happening in a motel room. But exactly how did I picture it? Differently?   
  
I did "it" with Mulder. There I said it. Not that it was so hard to say, it was just   
hard to believe. Not that I didn't want it, I wanted it more than anything. Maybe I was a   
little out of practice, the closest I've gotten to getting laid was Ed Jerse. Getting laid? Is that what I just said? What I had this time was not "getting laid." At least that's not how I would describe it. It was sex. Well, technically it was sex, but it wasmore.  
  
Six years we have been partners. Fox Mulder has gone through many women, at   
least I've heard. Yet he was a gentlemen with me. Never touched me. At first in the   
back of my mind I thought something was wrong with me. Of course I never got close   
enough for him to "touch" at first. Distant, that's me. Dana Katherine Scully, distant   
extrodinaire.   
  
He came into my room tonight. It was obvious neither one of us expected what   
would come. We're on a case. Stupid background check assigned by Kersh. This check brought us to a small town in Ohio, checking up a tanker trunk driver. Nothing unusual was happening. It was a routine check really. Our first case after the night we had in the "house" on Christmas Eve. Though that night should have brought us closer, it did though not the way most people would expect it to do. I couldn't sleep and ended up dragging my butt to Mulder's door at an ungodly hour, his present tucked behind my   
back. And we did talk. But not really that much. I never did believe what happened that night and it still baffles me. Yes something baffles Dana Scully. It happens.  
  
We were done with the check, and all ready to leave first thing in the morning.   
The flight was set for 9:32 a.m. On more night in the cheap motel and we would be out of here. Go back to playing solitaire on the computer waiting for as Mulder would put it, "a real assignment" to come along. Then something happened.   
  
It was simple really. We had gone back to the motel and I decided to talk a walk.   
Our case might have taken us to a small little town, but it was a small quaint little town   
and the sky was clear, and the weather was not that cold, for January. So I grabbed my   
coat and walked out.   
  
A small town and a quiet walk. Lots of time to think. But I was tired of thinking,   
it was tiring. I walked past a small park filled with children.  
  
Children. I should have walked right past it, I should have. Christmas had just   
passed and thoughts of Emily were still in my head. I should have just walked by, but I   
didn't. I stopped and watched the children laughing and playing and I didn't feel sad, I   
just felt empty. Barren. Lost.  
  
As if enchanted I watched them. Watching as they pushed each other on the   
swings and slid down the long slide. Watched as they tied their shoelaces, watched as   
they called for their parents.   
  
And I was fine. I really was. No tears, just enchantment. Until I saw her.  
  
A little girl about four years old, right by me. She had gotten her coat caught on   
the fence. I reached over to help her and she looked at me. Her blond hair fell just short of her shoulder, her thick bangs covered her forehead. Her eyes seemed to look through the very face of my soul.  
  
I freed her coat from the fence yet her eyes were still on me in an eerie yet   
comforting fashion.  
  
"Emily!" I heard a woman call. Her mother. I looked back at the girl. Her name   
was Emily. I felt tear threaten to make themselves known. In that split second it all comes back, Emily, last Christmas, everything. I quickly walk away from the crowd, not wanting them to see the tears in my face.   
  
I practically ran back to the motel, not knowing why I feel like this. Why can't I   
get past this? She's dead.  
  
I reached the motel, and made a dash for my room. I was going to lose it. This   
isn't supposed to happen. What happened to my control? What happened to hiding my feelings?  
  
I had almost reached the door when Mulder decided to walk out of his room at   
that same moment. He saw my face.   
  
Mulder can be an idiot sometimes. He can run off and leave me. He can have no   
thoughts for my feelings, sometimes. Yet he can also be incredibly sweet. And caring.   
And tonight was one of those moments.  
  
I'm not sure what happened next. Maybe it was because I was vulnerable, maybe it   
was something else. I felt like it was one of those romance novels. I told him about the   
park and tried not to let him see me cry. I don't why I didn't want Mulder to see me cry,   
but I just didn't. But the tears couldn't hide themselves, they came out like a river.  
  
Then everything happened so fast. Before I knew it, Mulder was in my room and   
we did "it." And neither of us said anything. We just looked at each other.   
  
"Scully," Mulder had started, and I suddenly felt cold under the blankets. Not the   
kind of physical cold, but an empty cold. I had sex with Mulder. My partner. I looked at him, not knowing what to say and unsure what he would say. What could we say? We had just done something that neither of us knew what to say about.  
  
It wasn't that I didn't want it. I just didn't want it the way it happened I guess.   
The truth was I probably wanted it more than I knew. But both of us didn't know what to   
say.  
  
I didn't respond. Mulder obviously took it for a bad sign. "I'm sorry," he   
muttered, "this was a mistake." He dashed out of the room to his own. I wanted to stop him to tell it wasn't a mistake, but I didn't. Maybe it was because I wasn't sure if it   
_wasn't_ a mistake.   
  
That was two hours ago.   
  
Now I'm in my motel room, alone. Mulder and I have not spoken to each other in   
that time. I've taken up pacing, it's a good form of exercise. Better than that Ab Roller.   
My suitcase was packed and yet it was still only 7 p.m. at night. Any look toward the bed reminded me of Mulder. Of "it."   
  
Would this change us? Of course it would, I told myself. The last thing I needed   
now was to ask myself stupid questions. Mulder is, well maybe was, my best friend. I   
cared for him deeply, he was, hell still is, mylife. Life. A simple word. He runs off   
and does crazy things. He has people after him and trouble follows him everywhere. Yet he is my life. How boring and mundane my life would be if I didn't have him. Sure I   
could leave the FBI, and go for that "family way of life" but then I wouldn't have him, my   
Mulder.  
  
Did I just say my Mulder? I sat down on the bed, for the first time not feeling   
uncomfortable as I did, and thought that over. The pangs of jealousy I felt when Diana   
came along, how I felt she was taking _my Mulder_.   
  
Is he really _my Mulder_? I shift positions on the bed, and listen to the silence that   
surrounds me. All of a sudden it seems to hit me. I had sex with Mulder.  
  
Yes, I said that already, I know, but this time it really seemed to hit home. My   
partner, my best friend, and one action had changed it all for us.   
  
I love Mulder, I do. I know, I've known that. And he loves me back. It's an   
unspoken line of communication between us. But our love was one that never had to be   
expressed in words, it was just there. It had been there for awhile. But we never admitted it, we never made a move. We were partners, friends. We had each other and for now that was all we needed. But after tonight, who knows.  
  
I eventually fell asleep that night, though I'm not sure when or how. I fell asleep   
listening to the sounds of Mulder pacing in the next room. And I was lost. I had no idea what to do or say.   
  
My dreams were vivid that night, in bright brilliant color. They seemed almost   
surreal. It was if my brain had decided to go on rewind; my dreams that night were all of   
moments past, cases and situations that Mulder and I could have found romance, but   
never did. Quiet moments where unspoken words were all that passed between us.   
Where feelings mattered and words just got in the way.  
  
I woke with a start that morning, staring at the digital clock beside my bed. 6:48.   
I stared at the clock for awhile watching the numbers change from 6:48 to 6:49 to 6:50.   
At 6:51 I heard Mulder wake, thanks to the paper thin walls of this cheap motel.   
  
As soon as I heard him, the urge to get away from the wall suddenly came. I   
quickly dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the   
water would drown out the sounds of the room next door.   
  
For the next hour I stayed in the bathroom, telling myself I was just getting ready,   
but knowing that I really was avoiding going into my room to hear Mulder or going   
outside and having to face him.  
  
But as I ran a brush through my newly dried hair, I knew I would have to face him.   
We would have to talk about this. Or would we? In the back of my mind I had a strange   
idea that maybe we could forget this and go back to the way we were. I kept convincing   
myself it could happen. It made me feel better to tell my heart a lie, but my mind knew.   
The sensible part of my mind knew.  
  
It argued with me. Telling me things could never go back to the way they were.   
Then my heart seemed to join in. Do you want it to go back to the way it was? You can build on this.  
  
Build on this? Was I fooling myself? I let Mulder leave my room last night   
thinking what we did was a mistake. I myself wasn't sure if that thought wasn't exactly   
false. And my heart tells me to build on this. You've been watching too many romance   
movies, Dana.  
  
I finally step out of the bathroom and glance at the clock. 7:56. We have to get   
the airport if we want to make our flight. Then another sense of dread hits me. The drive to airport. The drive that was going to be twenty minutes at least.   
  
Could two people who just slept with each other say nothing to each other on a   
car ride that would last twenty minutes at least?  
  
Well, you will soon find out. I put the remaining things in my suitcase and just as I   
was closing it, I heard a knock at the door.  
  
"Scully?" comes a tentative voice. Mulder. "We have to get going." His voice is   
uncertain and somewhat distant.  
  
I pick up my suitcase and grab my coat. I open the door to find Mulder outside of   
it, his own bag in his hand, the other hand clutching car keys. Our eyes meet yet we say nothing. Nothing. Finally Mulder turns his eyes away from mine and begins to walk toward the car. I follow trying to concentrate on nothing else but the sound of our   
footsteps on the gravel. Sounds echo around me, the birds, the wind. My eyes continue to watch our feet as they walk.  
  
It seems like a lifetime, though I know it's only about 15 seconds, but we finally   
reach the car. Oh God, if I think 15 seconds is a lifetime, how will I deal with the hours to come?  
  
We got into the car without a word. Mulder had thrown our bags into the trunk   
and started the car. We were on our way. And that's how it stayed. For the next twenty minutes complete quiet. It was so quiet that when my purse fell off the seat it seemed to deafen us both. Our eyes caught at that moment, but we turned away. Went back to our code of silence.   
  
The silence continued when we reached the airport. The only words we spoke   
were the necessary ones, like "you sure you have the tickets?" and "don't forget to check your bag."   
  
It seemed as if fate didn't want us to talk either. The flight we had was packed.   
We didn't sit together; in fact we were two rows away from each other. It was probably   
best, for now at least. I didn't know what to say to him, and I was sure he didn't know   
what to say to me.   
  
I looked out my window staring at the blue sky. I frowned at its false appearance.   
Not everything's sunshine. As the plane began to move I gripped my seat and turned to   
my right. Usually Mulder was there to grip my hand and distract me. This time he was   
two rows back physically. Emotionally he was a lot farther away. And as I gripped my   
armrest tighter I realized I might have lost the best friend I had in the whole world. And   
that scared me most of all.  



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Chapter 2******  


  
_5 weeks later_  
  
The flu. Of all the times I picked to get it, I got the flu. Between fighting achiness   
and nausea, I was ready to go home and do nothing but get into my bed. Mulder and I   
were no longer on the outs. We never discussed what happened out in Ohio, in fact for   
the first couple of weeks, we hardly spoke at all. Then slowly we made conversation,   
always avoiding the one subject we probably should have been talking about. Buried it in fact.  
  
We went back to working cases and the thing I thought would never happen did.   
Strangely we seemed to go back to normal, well normal for us. As long as we never   
discussed that night, we were fine. We were ok.  
  
Okay, we weren't _okay_, but I was just grateful that we were talking. And a few   
short weeks Mulder hadn't drudged an x-file out of Spender's garbage, though I was sure he was close to doing it. To Mulder what we were doing was pointless, he missed his basement office without a view. As we slowly went back to way we had always been, he slowly grew more and more bored with his new assignments. Instead of during work he would sit at his computer and e-mail the Gunmen or cruise the internet and join in on their games. He was so happy when he reached the twelfth level of Doom™, and I just stared at him wondering why just over a month ago I risked ruining a friendship like this. A friendship that never grew tired or old. The thought made me laugh.  
  
Today I came into work ready to hurl. I found Mulder, like the many others,   
working at his computer, except what he was doing, as usual, wasn't classified as "work." He turned his chair at my footsteps and smiled.  
  
"Level 13, today, Scully. I can feel it. Langly's gonna owe me twenty bucks," he   
said as I draped my coat across the back of my chair. His expression changed as he   
looked at my face. "You look like hell, Scully."  
  
So much for the use of subtlety, Mulder. "Just a touch of the flu," I reply as I look   
through the papers already on my desk.  
  
Mulder has now completely turned his chair around. "The flu, Scully? Shouldn't   
you be home in bed?" He has a look of concern on his face and I almost want to laugh.   
This seems like a role reversal of so many other times.   
  
"I will, Mulder. I promise," I assure him. "I'm going to do some light paperwork,   
then I'm heading home, happy?"  
  
Mulder nods and looks as if he wants to say something more but turns back to his   
desk. I sit at my own and look down at my work, but find my mind wandering, as it has   
been for the five weeks, and 1 day if I want to be exact. Yes, I'm exact. That's how long it's been since the incident. And Mulder and I are back to normal. We sleep together and then we go back to our "normal." Well, the Bureau was wrong. Spooky and the Ice Queen do not have a romantic relationship. We're friends, as we always have been. Good friends, the best in the world. Always there for me, we have an unspoken friendship "love." But somehow my daily speech didn't sound as convincing as it usually did. Did I want something more? Today I was too sick to think about it. Truth was I had no idea.   
  
I was true to my word and left a message for Kersh saying I was heading home early due to illness. I hadn't even eaten anything this morning, except for coffee, which after a mad dash to the ladies room, I realized I couldn't keep down. I left for my car in a dash, leaving a worried Mulder back in the office, still sitting at his glaring computer   
screen.  
  
The first thing I did when I got home was collapse on my bed, taking my shoes off.   
I didn't even bother to get changed. I fell asleep kicking myself for getting sick now.  
When I awoke next, it was dusk and there was a pounding at my door. I got up,   
feeling tired but better, even hungry, and stumbled toward the door.  
  
"Who's there?" I mumbled sleepily, and unlatched the door.   
  
I opened the door to find Mulder, his key out, smiling sheepishly at me. He held   
take-out bags in the other hand.  
  
"I got nervous when you didn't answer the phone, so I decided to come check on   
you and see if you were feeling better. I brought food." He held up the bags as proof.  
I found myself smiling at the simple caring gesture. He was worried about me. It   
seemed a caring, lovingwait a second, loving?  
  
"If you are up to eating," he gestured toward my apartment, interrupting my   
thoughts and I realized he was still in the hallway. I let him in, and actually grew hungry   
as I smelled the scent of Chinese food as Mulder carried it into the ktichen. Chinese food and a night with Mulder. I realized how "normal" that sounded. That was us, and I   
hoped it would never change.   
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked as I rumaged through my cabinets for some   
plates.  
  
"Much better," I admitted, "Guess I just needed some sleep." Mulder nodded and smiled and we sat to eat. I smiled and just enjoyed his companionship, though it was just friendship tonight. Friendship was the way I wanted it to be tonight. The idea of something more was pushed aside in my head, for the time being and I enjoyed this. The one night that reminded me why Mulder and I were such good friends. We knew how each other thought. And that made me smile.  
  
  
_Five days later_  
  
Damn this flu. It wasn't going away. I was sick as a dog in the morning and   
seemed to eat like a pig in the evening, only to have everything revisit me again in the   
morning. All I wanted to do was sleep. Mulder was worried about me I know, and I   
responded to his concerns by blowing up at him, in the hallway of the FBI. Yes, I   
definitely was not myself. Damn flu.   
  
I had already called in sick twice, and enough was enough. I decided, like it or   
not, I needed to make an appointment with my doctor. Every time I make an appointment with my doctor, I always dread it. Well, maybe dread' isn't the word. More like maybe the tiniest bit of fear. Fear that it's coming back. The cancer. I try to tell myself it's gone, but I always have to add that for now' sentence after it. For me it would never be truly gone.  
  
So I called into work, and told them I would be late. Mulder had stopped by last   
night and brought food with him again, so he would figure I was still sick and of course I   
still was. It was just the flu.  
  
Then why am I sitting in the waiting room of my doctor's office ready to tear the   
magazine in my hands to shreds?   
  
I'm overreacting, I know. But overreacting is all I have been doing lately. My   
emotions have been on an up and down cycle, like PMS decided to sneak up and attack me all month. I wish the PMS would go away and bring my friend' and then I could go back to work and devour chocolate with a legitimate reason.  
  
I'm a little late this month. Nothing major. Ever since the cancer, I haven't   
exactly been like an alarm clock, if you know what I mean. I'm a week late. No big deal, I've been later. And I know I'm not pregnant.   
  
Pregnant. I repeat that word in my mind. The symptoms would add up, and I did   
have that night..  
  
Dana, you're nuts! It's the flu. You know you're infertile. I can't have children.   
Can't produce a family. Suddenly the memory of Emily seems all to fresh in my mind.   
  
I put the magazine in my hand back on the table before it becomes tiny little paper   
pieces on the floor. Somewhere in the next five minutes the nurse calls my name and I get up and follow her into an exam room. I don't want to admit it, but I think my hands are shaking, ever so slightly. I squeeze my hands into gentle fists to steady them. I'm in control, I have to be in control.  
  
The nurse takes my temp and blood pressure, and gives me a gown to change into,   
along with my favorite part of the exam, a cup. I now understand why people would   
grimace at that when I did my internship. Rotating into many departments, the only   
similar thing was that everyone hated tests and hated being sick. I could identify with   
that, a little more than I'd like to.  
  
The doctor comes in and we go through the usual exam. I wait for her to   
diagnosis the flu, but she steps out for a minute, to check something. The butterflies in my stomach come back full force.   
  
She's only gone a second, and when she returns she asks a question that shocks   
the hell out of me.  
  
"Dana, when was the date of your last period?"  
  
I'm shocked. I weakly reply that it was I have to pause and think about it.   
  
"It was six weeks ago," I reply in a voice that doesn't sound like the voice I'm   
used to hearing.  
  
She nods, and tells me to brace myself. Then she tells me the words I thought I   
would never hear.  
  
"You're pregnant."  
  
I'm what!?  
  
"What?" I reply, weakly, the room wanting to close around me.  
  
"You're pregnant, Dana. Of course, I'd like to do an ultrasound to be sure, and   
then I'll give you the name of-"  
  
"I can't be," I say stubbornly, interrupting her. "I can't have children."  
  
She lays down her chart and looks at me. "If I told you how many women I end   
up recommending to an OB who said they couldn't bear children, you'd be amazed." She paused. "I've read your history, Dana. Most people call this a gift from God. I know I would."  
  
I nod mutely as she continues.  
  
"Like I said, I would like to do an ultrasound to be sure. Then I'll give you the   
name of an excellent OB, Dr. Rebecca Johnson. She works with high-risk pregnancies,   
and although your pregnancy may not be high risk, the factor of your cancer could make it high risk."  
  
I nod again. Things go by fast after that. Next thing I know I'm walking out of   
the office with an ultrasound picture in my purse and a business card in my hand. Then it hits me: I'm pregnant. With Mulder's baby. I have a black and white photo of our baby in my purse. The baby I'm carrying. The one thing in the world I thought I would never be able to have, God gave to me. Why?  
  
"Don't question God, Dana. Only thank him," my mom used to tell me when I   
was a kid. So as I walked out into the parking lot of the doctor's office, I looked up   
toward the sky. I had no idea what to do, what to tell my family and most importantly,   
what would happen to Mulder and I. I had no idea what to do. But I looked up at the   
sky, and forced a smile upon my face.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered into the faint sun. "Thank you for my gift."   



	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 ******  


  
I entered the office later that day, practically clinging to my purse as if it was my   
only hold to life itself. It's near noon, and I'm glad to see the office is semi-vacant, lunch   
hour was my Godsend today. Somehow as I walk toward my desk, I can almost feel eyes on me, and yet I know no one is looking. You're paranoid, Dana. Nobody knows.   
Nobody knows you're pregnant.   
  
I approach my desk and find Mulder at his computer, staring intently at the screen.   
As I drop my purse on my desk with a gentle thud, Mulder looks up with a smile.  
  
"Level 14, Scully," he replied, then appears concerned. "Are you feeling better?"  
The question is caring and gentle, yet at that very moment tears threaten to escape my   
eyes.  
  
"Yes." A short answer, one Mulder doesn't look completely satisfied with, but it   
will have to do. I'm not going to talk to him now. The walls have ears. And in the FBI,   
they have more ears then you can count.  
  
Yes, maybe I am a little paranoid. After working with Mulder for six years, I have   
picked up a habit or two. But now I have a secret that right now is threatening to take   
away all of my control. Control has always been something I was proud of. That's why it hit me hard with the cancer. It was in control. But I didn't let it control me. I wasn't   
going to let a little thing like being pregnant make me fall to pieces.  
  
Ha! Since when have I thought being pregnant was a little thing?  
  
Mulder's looking at me now, and all I can see the concern on his face. Mulder,   
please don't ask what's wrong. Not today.  
  
"Scully, are you sure you are okay? Maybe you need some more time off."  
  
I breath a little easier. At least he didn't ask me what was wrong. I force myself   
to smile. "I'm fine, Mulder," I reply and get the urge to kick myself for using the same-  
old tired sounding line I always use. That we both always use. It's become something of a joke for us.   
  
He nods. "So it was just the flu?" he asks casually as he turns back to the   
computer, which was now displaying a message saying he had mail.   
  
"Yes," I lie, "It's all gone now." Oh, Mulder if only you knew. If only I could tell   
you. But not yet. But I will.  
  
I sit back in my chair and watch him open his mail. Somewhere in the fantasy part   
of my brain, I imagine a child with the same hazel eyes and sense of humor. I can feel   
myself smile at the thought, but then questions come along with it.  
  
Does Mulder want to be a father?  
  
What if I tell him and he never wants to talk to me again?  
  
And then a very paranoid question. Was my getting pregnant was part of "their"   
plans?  
  
I distractedly turn on my own computer screen and shove the thought onto a dusty   
shelf in my mind. That way I wouldn't have to think about it. Won't have to face it.   
Damnit, Dana, I curse myself. I have to think about it.   
  
Mulder's so engrossed in his e-mail that he doesn't notice my disposition and for   
once I'm glad he's not the most incisive person in the world.   
  
I'm pregnant. The sentence echoes in my head, like a bad dream. Yet, it's not a   
bad dream, it's a miracle. Yes, my own little miracle. Growing inside of me. The thought sends a warm feeling through my body and down to my toes.   
  
A girl. That's what I want. A little girl. Parents aren't supposed to have   
preferences, they just want a healthy baby. But me, secretly I hope it's a girl. One who   
can look at me with her father's eyes and tell me about how she thinks the kid down the   
street is plotting against her.  
  
Yes, it would make the perfect Hallmark commercial.   
  
I have to stop daydreaming. This is real life. And Hallmark-style lives don't   
happen to women who are afraid to tell the one person who matters most that she's   
pregnant. No, it doesn't happen at all.  
  
I remember a time when I was little, and woman's daughter next door died. All my   
neighbor would do was cry, and flowers with sympathies were always arriving at her   
doorstep. Yet my mother said sadly that it was a blessing in disguise. I just looked at her like she was crazy. She smiled, and told me about how the little girl was very sick, with terminal cancer (a memory that now still chills me a little) and that it was only a matter of time before she died. She was suffering greatly, my mother said, and it was better she was gone now then later, because now she was in heaven with no suffering. I had nodded my head and tried to understand. A blessing in disguise. I glanced toward Mulder, who was now back into his Doom™ game. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. But it was hiding itself well.  
  
I let my chin rest in my hands and knew I wouldn't tell him today. Hell, I probably   
wouldn't tell him tomorrow. And the day after that was iffy. What was I scared of?  
  
Well, let me just check my check list.  
  
Oh, yeah. There are a lot of things to be scared of. A hell of a lot. And I didn't   
even mention telling my mother.   
  
Or worst yet, telling my brother.  
  
Scared wasn't the word I was looking for anymore. Terrified was more like it.  
  
I shifted through my paperwork, and let my mind wander into work. It was so   
much easier to avoid something rather then face. God knows I was doing a lot of that   
lately.  
  
  
_A week and a half later_  
  
A week went by, a last faster then I thought it would. The morning sickness was   
horrible, and almost every morning I found myself waking up and running to the bathroom to make it in time. Nobody told me it would this bad.   
  
I had begun to eat Saltines®, and whoever said they help morning sickness is sadly   
mistaken. I felt like throwing the entire box of crackers into my bedroom wall, and came   
very close to it one day. Regardless of the fact that the crackers weren't helping, I   
continued to consume them; I'd gone through a box in about 3 days. At this rate I should probably buy stock in the company.  
  
It was now the weekend, another Sunday was here. Another Sunday where the   
first thing I did was puke my guts out. Lovely.  
  
Mulder still had no idea. I hide things well, I must admit. I could hide my bad   
days with the cancer from Mulder, and I could hide my morning sickness from Mulder.   
When he commented on my coffee breakfast my response was, "Maybe I am picking up some of your bad habits."  
  
I wasn't going to tell him until it was absolutely necessary. Like when my water   
broke and it was time. Who are you fooling, Dana?   
  
A glance at my clock told me it was 9:33 a.m. I walked out of the bathroom for   
the third time this morning, and took a long look toward the Saltines sitting on my bureau. Could I go through another month and a half like this? Or worst yet, longer? My medical school brain told me that morning sickness usually disappears by the third month, but that same brain told me that that wasn't always the case for all women.  
  
I'm cursing my "never follow the crowd" way of thinking right now.  
  
I hear a knock at my door.  
  
"Dana?"  
  
My mom. Shit.  
  
I love my mom, I really do. It's just that I wasn't really up to company right now.   
But that wasn't even the reason I didn't want to see her. The reason is my mother has the knack for guessing what's wrong. Like guessing I'm pregnant. And knowing my   
mother's track record, she's usually right on the money. That's why I couldn't lie to her   
as a kid. As an adult, I learned that avoiding her was the only way to successfully lie.   
  
Well, I don't think that plan is successful anymore.  
  
The knock repeats itself and I stare out my bedroom door, not wanting to rise   
from my position on the bed.  
  
"Dana?"  
  
Ok, she's getting impatient now. That I know. And my thoughts are confirmed as   
I hear a key turn and my door open.  
  
"Dana?" This time the voice comes my living room. The thought of facing my   
mother right now is bringing the nausea back.  
  
"Dana, why didn't you answer?"  
  
She is now standing in the doorway of my bedroom, looking at me sitting on the   
bed. Her eyebrow raises slightly in the position I have given Mulder on more then a   
million different occasions. He wonders where I get it from.   
  
"I guess I just didn't hear it," I answer lamely, knowing my mother will see right   
throw it.   
  
I'm right. "Dana are you feeling all right?"  
  
She looks at me with the typical mother look, a combination of love and concern.   
I love my mother, I really do, but right now I really wish she wasn't here.  
  
She pulls the mother act. Walks into my room and before I know it her hand is on   
my forehead. I think of the groans Mulder is always giving my I do this to him. Maybe I   
should learn to be a little easier on him. But then again, it's usually a big illness with   
Mulder. I'm just pregnant. Not sick. Just pregnant.  
  
"Mom." I push her hand away. "I'm fine."  
  
Her eyes narrow at me, as if she is studying every inch of me before coming to her   
conclusion.   
  
"Dana, for someone who is usually up and ready by 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday, you   
are not fine."  
  
I don't answer that. Damn my early bird attitude. It's not something I wanted to   
adopt. My father was an early bird, a military man usually is. I was up every school day by 6, and on the weekends, it was rare for me to sleep past 8. No wonder my mom   
thought something was wrong.  
  
"Mom, I'm fine really," I try to reinforce. Her eyes scan the room and fall on the   
object I probably should have shoved into the drawer. The Saltines.  
  
I can see her mind working. She's putting the pieces together in her head. I look   
down at the floor, another bout of nausea filling my stomach. This time I'm not sure it's   
from the morning sickness or from the fact that my mother is close to discovering what's   
wrong with me. I don't know which feeling is worse.   
  
She walks over to the bureau and picks up the box. The scene when she   
discovered I had cancer is running through my head. I half expect her to yell at me. I   
know she knows. Or at least suspects. The nausea is having a field day with my stomach.  
  
She doesn't yell. In fact she doesn't say a word. She's silent as she walks toward   
the bed and sits next to me, the box of Saltines in her hand.  
  
"Dana?"  
  
I look up like a little girl whose been caught with her hands in the cookie jar.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
My stomach does a flip-flop and this time I'm not going to get around it. I stare at   
the bathroom door and now I am going to find myself inside of it in the near future and   
then my mom will have all the proof she needs.  
  
"Dana, are you-"  
  
I don't hear the rest of her question as I quickly get up from the bed and rush into   
the bathroom. I know that it's not lady-like and goes against all the manners my mother   
have talk me to interrupt a conversation by running off to vomit. But she's my mother and she's seen worse.  
  
Though I can't think of a worse right now. In fact I can't think of anything right   
now. I'm too busy throwing up the Saltines I ate.  
  
I hear the door turn and now my mother is coming in. Memories of her holding   
but my hair as I got sick as a child fill my mind as I sit back against the wall. But I'm not a child anymore. Still she bends down and brushes the stray hair out of my face.  
  
"How far along are you?" she asks, as she sits down next to me. That's what I   
love about my mother. She's always there for me even when I don't want her. But now   
that she knows, I'm glad she's here. Funny how your mind can do a 360 in just a few   
minutes.  
  
"About seven weeks," I reply, staring toward the wall. I know what question will   
follow.  
  
"Who's the father, Dana? I didn't think you were seeing anyone."  
  
That's right, Mom. I'm not seeing anyone. That's how my life has become. Screw   
my partner and yet I'm still not "seeing" him. That's my life.   
  
I don't answer her, I just let my gaze fall to the floor.  
  
"It's Fox, isn't it?"   
  
Damn, my mother. She's good. The FBI should think about hiring her. Mulder   
would be pretty impressed how much she can get out of people with a simple "mother"   
look.  
  
I nod, quietly.  
  
"How long have you been dating?"  
  
Dating, Mom? Gee, I think we forgot to do that somewhere along the line.   
  
"We're not, Mom."  
  
"You're not?"  
  
She looks at me with a look of confusion mixed with disappointment. I think   
somewhere in my mother's head she has always been trying to fix me up with Mulder.   
Well, I know that's not going to happen. Especially when I can't get enough courage to   
tell him he's going to be a daddy.  
  
And that I'm going to be a mommy.  
  
"We're not," I tell my mom, and let out a long sigh. Thankfully my mother seems   
to understand. She gets up, knowing I will tell in good time, and offers a hand up off the   
floor. I may not be able to lie to my mother, but avoiding subjects in my middle name. As I walk back into my bedroom and sit on the bed, my mom asks another question.   
  
"Does he know?"  
  
My mom sure knows which questions to ask today.  
  
"No." I answer the question truthfully and quickly, hopefully she will give me time   
to come around with the details. I have to give her credit; she seems to back off a little.  
  
"I think I'll make you some tea. It helped me when I was pregnant. Why don't   
you take a shower," she says and leaves me for a minute. I'm grateful for the time to pull myself together.  
  
Thirty minutes later I join my mother in my kitchen, my hair wet, but feeling much   
better. My mother has even started breakfast.  
  
"Mom, I don't think-"  
  
"It's just toast, Dana. Not too much."  
  
My mother knows me better then myself sometimes.  
  
She sits down at my table, looking as if she has a hundred questions. I don't feel   
like answering a hundred questions. She seems to know that, too.  
  
She watches me sit down and pick at my food. After taking a long sip of her own   
coffee, she looks at me, with a look a couldn't really describe. A disappointed look yet   
there was something else. I expected my mother to be a bit disappointed. I knew she   
expected to get grandchildren after a man had put a ring around my finger. Well, I always was different. Her face holds something more than that feeling, though. It's almost as if she was..smiling.  
  
She catches my stare and takes another sip of her coffee.  
  
"If it helps any Dana, congratulations," she says with a small smile, that turns into   
something I've never really seen my mother do before: grin.   
  
"I want a granddaughter, Dana. Bill and Charlie both gave me boys, and while   
they're great, nothing beats a little girl."  
  
My mother wants a girl? The happiness and acceptance of that sentence hit before   
the reality did. I somehow pictured my mother acting differently, and I've learned she   
continues to surprise me. My mother, full of surprises.   
  
A little girl. That would be nice. Now I've got two votes, counting my own for a   
little girl. Hopefully Mulder will chime in and make it three. They say men all want sons, but I think Mulder is a little different. I bet he'd make her daddy's little girl and-  
  
What the hell am I thinking?? I've haven't even told him. He may not even want a   
child.   
  
I'm back to square one. Who was it that said pregnancy brought a world of joy?   
To me, it was bringing a world of problems. I can't really blame it though, I was the one   
who got myself into the situation.  
  
But it takes two to tango.  
  
But I'm going to be doing the tango alone unless I tell him. And everyone knows   
the tango is easier with two people.   
  
My mother looks at me with another look of concern.  
  
"Dana, are you sure you are all right?"  
  
No Mom, I'm not. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes. Call it   
hormones, but I end up doing something I haven't really done in front of my mother in   
years. I sit there and burst into tears.   



	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Chapter 4******  


  
He knows.  
  
Yes, it's just as I said: he knows.  
  
After all my worrying about how to tell him, nature decided I was taking to long   
and went ahead and told him for me.  
  
Things were going well. After bursting into tears in front of my mother, she   
became my support. I still hadn't told Mulder yet, and she don't say anything, although I know she wanted to. Her look was enough. I had to tell him soon. That I knew.  
  
I was now in the middle of my second month, now about 10 and half weeks along.   
The morning sickness is still there. It's bad on some days; better on others. I'm still stuck on my coffee breakfast. My brain tells me that coffee is no where near enough for a breakfast for two, but my stomach always has other ideas.  
  
Still fate wanted my secret out.   
  
We were on another case, doing another background check. We didn't go   
anywhere like Ohio, in fact we were only in Maryland, a stone's throw away from D.C.   
Mulder still had no idea. In fact he spent the entire morning complaining about how the   
FBI was trying to get him to resign.   
  
He even pulled me near a Chinese restaurant. "How about after we do the FBI's   
dirty work, we go to lunch and blow the rest of the day off?"  
  
I had to make a quick escape from near that restaurant before my morning sickness   
once again reared its ugly head. Explaining to Mulder how I was okay after puking up on the sidewalk was not on my to do list today. Instead I walked quickly away from it saying nothing.  
  
Mulder gave me a strange look. "Scully, are you okay?"  
  
Not that question, Mulder. I give my usual answer.   
  
"I'm fine. We should get this done."  
  
Mulder eyed me for another minute before nodding.  
  
The morning was slow. My stomach was on one of its bad days today. The   
nausea was getting bad, and I was afraid I'd have to make a mad dash to the ladies room soon. We had to go by the DMV for some information and as soon as we got there, I knew I'd have to find a ladies room.  
  
I made a flimsy excuse and hurried off. After loosing my coffee (the only thing I   
had consumed that morning), I took a look at myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and a pale face were not attractive today. Splashing water on my face, I tried to will both the   
nausea and dizziness I was feeling away.  
  
I walked out of the restroom and found Mulder talking to the woman behind the   
desk. I bypassed the long line of people renewing their driving licensees to make to over to him. As I passed them, I began to feel a little light-headed. I credited it to the fact that I hadn't eaten anything all day. A glance at my watch told me it was 11 a.m. My stomach tended to settle itself around 12, 1 o'clock, so hopefully I would keep something down then. Hopefully.   
  
I shook my head as the light-headedness seemed to increase. Maybe I should get   
something to eat, no matter whether it says down or not.  
  
I'm not sure what happened next, but I know I must have stumbled. Next thing I   
knew Mulder was by my side, calling my name. It sounded so far away. Pretty soon   
things went black.  
  
The sounds were the first thing that came back, slowing filtering into my brain.   
The bustle of people walking by, the distant sounds of a loudspeaker. The smell came   
next. It was antiseptic and I knew at once I was in the hospital.  
  
Damn it. I must have passed out. As soon as I opened my eyes I found a nurse   
pushing some curtains back. At least I was still in the ER. That meant I probably wasn't out for very long.  
  
The nurse who had pulled the curtain back was now checking my vital signs. The   
same old song and dance: blood pressure, temp, etc.   
  
"Look who's awake."  
  
Damn, she was a perky nurse. Just what I needed now. She did her job and   
looked up at me shaking her head.  
  
"You worried your poor husband to death," she continued.  
  
Husband?   
  
"He was very worried. Gave this whole song and dance about cancer. He nearly   
fainted when the doctor told him it was only your coffee breakfasts and morning sickness due to the pregnancy that were the cause of your fainting spell. Turned sheet white, like he was about to pass out. I had to grab a chair quick and push his head between his knees before he was okay again."  
  
My husband? Turned sheet white when he found out I was pregnant?? Oh my   
God.  
  
I think I turned sheet white then because the next thing the nurse was saying was   
that she was going to get the doctor.  
  
"No, I'm okay," I manage to get out.  
  
The nurse smiled. "I figured you never told him. Well, if it helps, he reacted   
better then my husband when he found out I was pregnant. Nearly tore up the house.   
And _I_ told him."  
  
I want to tell this woman that Mulder's not my husband, that we're not even   
together, but the words don't seem to want to come out.  
  
"I'm going to get the doctor, anyway. He wanted to know when you came to.   
And I'm sure your husband will want to see you as well."  
  
Would she stop calling him my husband!?   
  
I have no idea what to do now. Mulder knew, and from what I had heard, hadn't   
taken it well. He knew he was the father. Hell, all he had to do was the math. And I   
don't exactly get around, in fact I haven't had sex in six years. I could have probably   
considered myself near nunhood until that night with Mulder. That night that was.  
  
Oh my God, what am I going to do now?   
  
I don't have much time to contemplate that thought, though. The doctor walks in,   
a chart in his hands, and a Mulder behind him. One that's looking at the floor, avoiding all eye contact with me, and is pale enough to consider checking himself in here as well.  
  
I turn toward the wall like a coward. Guess neither of us is batting a thousand   
today.  
  
The doctor begins his speech, which was really more like a lecture. Tells me   
coffee is not what an expectant mother lives on, that if the nausea was really bad, I should have consulted my OB. Reprimands me, telling me that as a medical doctor I should know better. How'd he know I was a medical doctor? Guess Mulder told him that. I just listen, half-kicking myself in the ass for getting myself in the situation in the first place. If only I had taken better care of myself I could have  
  
Could have what Dana? Could have put off telling Mulder until the baby's 30th   
birthday? Maybe this was for the best.  
  
Mulder's pale complexion is telling me otherwise. Maybe I should talk to the   
doctor about him.  
  
The doctor beats me to it. "As long as you take better care of yourself, I think you   
can avoid another situation like this. I suggest you talk to your OB about the nausea,   
though." I nod, and he looks at Mulder, a bit concerned. "Are you all right, Mr.   
Mulder?"  
  
Mulder looks up weakly. "I'm fine," he replied. "She's the one I'm worried   
about." He points to me, not even sure what to call me today. No "my partner." What is going to happen to us?  
  
The doctor smiled. "Your wife will be fine, Mr. Mulder. She just needs some rest   
and a normal breakfast." He gave a little wink. "I learned to cook by making my wife   
breakfast during her first pregnancy." He gave a few instructions, and the nurse handed   
me my clothes. He left me alone with Mulder.  
  
I didn't look at Mulder as I slowly swung my legs around. He didn't look at me.   
He turned away as I grabbed my blouse, but finally broke the cruel silence that had elapsed between us.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't correct him when he called you my wife," Mulder started, still   
turned away from me. "But they kept saying it over and over, and I thought it was a lost   
cause." His voice is a bit distant, afraid. A new voice I've never heard before.  
  
"It's okay," I reply, not knowing what else I can say. I quickly finish dressing,   
hurrying as I button the last buttons on my blouse.   
  
"You can turn around," I say, not knowing if he really will. He does, slowly, with   
caution. His eyes seem to stare at the wall for a moment, but finally they make their way toward me. I don't turn away. We have to talk. We can't go on like this; it just won't work.   
  
"Scully," he starts at the say time as I say, "Mulder."  
  
We both pause, smiling briefly. "You go first," I urge him and he purses his lips,   
and I can almost see his brain searching for the right question to ask. Just fire away,   
Mulder. There is no right question in this game.  
  
"How did you, I mean you can't..?" He doesn't even complete thought, but I   
know what he means. I answer him, calmly. He deserves to hear something from me.  
  
"I don't know, Mulder. I didn't think it could happen, either. But it did."  
  
"It's-"  
  
"Of course its yours, Mulder. I haven't been very active' in the last weeks with   
anyone else." Here it comes. The "night." I should know by now we would have to talk   
about it sometime.  
  
He pauses and takes a couple of steps closer toward me. He's hesitant. I've never   
seen Mulder so hesitant before. He always dived headfirst into other things; that's how he always got hurt. This time, he's using caution. I never thought he knew the meaning of the word before today. I decide to do something to let him know he doesn't have to take so much caution. That's it okay for us to talk. I had dreaded this moment from the   
minute I found out I was pregnant, yet now I just want to get out in the open. My mind   
has been changing its mind lately. Maybe these hormones aren't all bad. Especially if they help get through this conversation.   
  
I get up and grab Mulder's hand.   
  
"I'm not asking you to-"  
  
He interrupts me. "I would never leave you or this baby," he defends.  
  
"I didn't say you would."  
  
More silence.  
  
"I'm just saying that you don't have to feel obligated to-"  
  
He grips my hand tighter. "I know." We both know. Know that we don't have to   
get married, that we don't even have to live together. I should have never thought for a   
minute that Mulder wouldn't have wanted this baby. Though I can't picture him as the   
perfect father figure (hell, I never pictured myself as the perfect mother figure, either), I   
should have known that he would never desert me. Our six year "relationship" may never have turned to a true "romance" (so to speak), but we had something that was better. Something that pushed him to go to the ends of the earth for me, literally, when I was in trouble. He went to Antarctica for me, surely he would at least support our baby. My heart tells he would do more. We don't have to get married, we don't have to live together, that's not important now. The only thing that's important is the life we both   
created. The life that for some reason God wanted to be created. My miracle. My heart can't help but hope that it's _our_ miracle too.  
  
Watch out Dana, one thing at a time. You can't go and act like a lovesick   
teenager. You have a baby on the way now.  
  
And no wedding ring on my finger. Mulder is absently looking down at me, but   
not at my face. I realize he's looking toward my stomach. I don't why, somehow I think   
of this of an unMulderlike gesture. Still, I get a good feeling seeing this. Almost a feeling that thing will work out. That things will be okay.   
  
There you go again, Dana. Dreaming is becoming my favorite pastime now. It's   
easier to dream about a great life then go and get one yourself.   
  
I do something strange, then. Taking Mulder's hand, I bring it up to my stomach   
and smile.  
  
"You're not going to feel anything. It's too early."  
  
His face takes on a weird look when I do this. He lets his hand sit there, gently,   
almost as if he was trying to read the contents inside. I've never seen it better, but he   
lookscontent, almost. Like he's found something he's been looking forever for. I   
almost want to know who has replaced the Mulder I know with a pod person. He pulls   
his hand away, and looks up at me.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asks, concern suddenly on his face. "I mean I'll drive you   
home so that-"  
  
"Slow down, Mulder. I'm fine. Just haven't been taking as good as care of myself   
as I should. I've never been pregnant before, plus I've spent too much time around your   
bad habits."  
  
He smiles, and leans in toward me. I can almost feel my heart skip a beat as I can   
feel the heat of his body so close to mine. Why is he doing this? Are we okay? The   
conversation we just had was so confusing I didn't know what to think. Mulder had been   
so distant, yet now he was..so close. So very close. The pale face I have seen no longer that ten, fifteen minutes before was gone.   
  
"Mulder?" I manage to say, with a bit of puzzlement. "We need to talk about his."  
  
He nodded. "We do."  
  
I'm silent again. I don't where to begin. I glance around the room. Well, first   
things first. I don't want to have this conversation in an ER exam room, although it's a   
second home to us both. I just realized that we both need to get out more, or maybe a tad less.  
  
"Mulder, we should get out of here." I reach toward the bed for my purse.   
Suddenly he grabs my hand.   
  
"Scully, you're right. We need to talk about this."  
  
Didn't we just say that? We're back to being inches apart from each other.   
Mulder's hazel eyes find my own and I suddenly find myself happy in the position I'm in.   
Standing in an ER exam room, inches away from Mulder, his hand in mine. No wonder   
the staff thought we were married. Was that what all people thought? Maybe I should go with the crowd.  
  
Here I was pregnant. I had told my mother, and she was okay with it. A bit   
disappointed at the fact I wasn't married, but still supportive. Now Mulder knew, in a   
situation I hoped to avoid. He nearly passed out at the doctor's words, and now was   
almost memorized by the situation. Maybe it was a reverse shock. I should look that up when I got home.  
  
"You want to talk about this, Mulder. We will talk about it."  
  
"I know, Scully." He pauses. "Six years together as partners, Scully. I wonder   
what the office pool is up to now. Probably hundreds." His eyes are dancing, the   
mischievous look I know so well is in them. "Do you want this, Scully?"  
  
The question is simple, really, yet I can think of different "simple" meaning it could   
mean. Like, did I want the baby. Yes. Or did the question mean something else?  
  
"The baby? Of course I want the baby. It's the one thing I thought I would never   
had. I want it very much." This was true. I had never realized I wanted a baby until I   
couldn't have one. But isn't that what they say about most things? You don't realize you want them until you discover you can't have them.  
  
"No, Scully." Oh, God, _he's_ going to bring it up. I never thought Mulder had   
the guts. I never did. Even when I got pregnant.   
  
"I don't want to-"  
  
"This isn't about traps, Scully. This is about us. This is about-" He stops   
suddenly and grabs both of my wrists. He leans in, and I know it's going to happen.   
Suddenly I feel like a high school girl waiting for her prom date to give her that one kiss   
she will never forget.  
  
Oh, and I certainly won't forget _this_ kiss, either. He leans slowly, and I let him.   
We're locking lips before we know it, and neither of us pulls away. I don't know how   
much time passes by, but neither of us is willing to end the moment we are having right   
now. Six years seemed like a mere waiting period for a product like this. Is this how it's meant to be? Is this how it's supposed to happen? My mind wants answers, but my heart already knows the answer.  
  
Take it or leave it, Dana.   
  
Hell, I think I'll take it.  
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
We both look, like guilty teenagers caught red-handed by a parent.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, but I just need you to sign the release forms." The nurse holds   
out a clipboard and I stop and sign the bottom. She smiles.   
  
"You're free to go now." She begins to walk out, but stops at the door. "Oh, and   
congratulations!"  
  
"Thank you," I mutter, watching the nurse walk out the door. I turn to Mulder.   
"What just happened here?"  
  
He looks at me. "I think we just made out."  
  
I nod. "Mulder, I want to know-"  
  
He interrupts me again. "Scully, why do you need an answer to everything?   
Sometimes there isn't one. I don't know what will happen. But do we need to plan out   
our entire future when it hasn't even really begun yet? So let's go get lunch. Your   
choice. My treat."  
  
He begins to walk out the door. I can feel another page turn in the story of my   
life. Mulder knows I'm pregnant, we make-out in an exam room, and then we just go out to lunch. Were we a couple now? I didn't know, but I smile.  
  
Mulder's right. I don't need an answer. At least not now. I have a few months   
ahead to plan everything. Today I was going to relax, and enjoy the first stress-free day   
I've had in the last three months. This baby was hungry and so was I. I picked my purse and walked out the door after Mulder. Maybe we were a couple. Maybe everyone would think we were married. So what? Let them think that. Maybe that's the way it was meant to be.   



	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5******  


  
_2 and a half months later  
(5 months - babytime)_  
  
June was beautiful this year. The sun shined through the windows and the cold   
D.C. had seen only a couple of months back seemed like a distant memory. The weather seemed to suit my mood. Sunny, yet still held a couple of small clouds on the horizon.   
  
It had been exactly two and half months since Mulder discovered I was pregnant.   
What's happened since? Tons. No, we didn't run out to Vegas to get married. Nor did   
we declare our love for each other in a passionate, splendid way. That only happens on   
soap operas. We knew we loved each other, we didn't even have to say it. We were   
going to have a baby, so we took a step. We moved in together. In fact Mulder didn't tell me he loved me until he was moving boxes into my apartment.  
  
"Scully," he had said, placing a box of books on my kitchen table.  
  
I looked up from my crossword puzzle. "Yes?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Mulder." Then I went back to my crossword puzzle. It was as   
simple as that. No, I don't have a ring around my finger. Yes, this baby is going to born   
into wedlock. And yes, my mom is ok with that, for now. I can picture her planning my   
wedding sometime in the future, however. What mother doesn't want to do that for their   
daughter?  
  
And are Mulder and I sleeping together? Well, if you mean we're getting it on   
every single night then you're probably seen too many of Mulder's porn films. But, yes,   
we love each, we're having a baby, and we do sleep together occasionally. Who knew all it would take for Mulder and I to form a "relationship" was a one night stand and a baby on the way? Maybe we could sell our story to the soaps one day.  
  
Oh, and yes my brother Bill knows as well. I didn't really intend to tell him. I had   
been beginning to show, though, and he noticed I gained weight when he came to visit.   
And, as some people may think, he did not go out and murder Mulder on the spot. He   
may be Navy, but he's not that rash. Sure, he spoke a few choice words, and told me that I could do better. But I know he'll come around. He only looks out for me, even though I can look out for me on my own. Guess I'm always be his little sister in the same way I'll always be my mom's baby girl. Tara, on the other hand, was very happy for me, and even offered to go baby shopping with me. I have to admit pregnancy is starting to grow on me.  
  
Once Bill knew, he passed it along to Charlie, who passed it along to just about the   
whole family. My mom always said: "Tell Charlie Scully a secret and you might as well   
tell the world." Before I knew I had distant family members calling with congratulations   
and asking when they missed the wedding. They didn't miss it; it hasn't occurred yet. I   
don't even know if it will, but for the first time in my life, I'm okay with that. I don't need   
to plan my entire life. I just need to get through the next four months. Then I can go back to being a control freak. I've decided hormones are a great worry lifter.  
  
Of course here comes the important thing: I have to tell people at work, mostly   
meaning I have to tell Kersh. Something I think Mulder was going to enjoy more than I   
would. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, but something I had to do. I was   
wearing baggy and non-flattering clothes to work to hide my slightly bulging stomach.   
My morning sickness had just about disappeared, but I was going to need some maternity leave. Maybe I could just call in sick for a couple of months straight.  
  
And maybe pigs will fly tomorrow, Dana.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
I thought today would be as good a day as any. I had a sonogram appointment at   
two that afternoon, something Mulder was strangely very excited about. He's been   
shocking me lately. The one man who I would think would be scared at the prospect of   
fatherhood went out yesterday and came back with a truckload of baby toys. Every toy   
was neutral, since we didn't now if the baby was a boy or girl. Though, come to think   
about it, Mulder did buy a few pink things. I think he wants a girl. He's never really told   
me a preference, but after yesterday's credit card bill I think he wants a girl.  
  
Good. Another vote in my favor. Too bad votes alone can't get you a baby girl.   
  
Mulder got up early this morning, heading off to work saying something a mound   
of paperwork Kersh had stuck him with. I figured he was really going to play an early   
game of Doom™ with the Gunmen. I got up usually, got ready for work, and intended to see Kersh about my condition at 10:30 sharp. That was my schedule and I'm sticking to it.  
  
And before anyone asks, no I was not going to tell him about the baby's father   
unless he came out and asked. I knew what type of people Kersh knew. It was only   
about eight months back when I found that Cigarette Smoking bastard in his office. If he   
had to ask who the father was, he was a little denser than I thought.  
  
I stuck to my schedule. Went into work, and at 10:30 went by myself to see AD   
Kersh. I sat down in the chair in the office and told him I would need some maternity   
leave in about four and a half months. He looked at me, said that I was entitled to the   
leave, and gave me congratulations. He didn't pry into my personal life. I hadn't walked   
into the office with Mulder, so he couldn't assume we were involved. He couldn't prove   
it. I knew that two coworkers dating was not against FBI regulation, they just didn't like   
the couple to working as closely together as partners. Something about how it would   
distract them from their duties in the FBI. Oh wow, it would stop Mulder and I from   
doing another background check. Oh, darn, how the FBI would hate that.  
  
I think I've been around Mulder's sarcastic comments too long.  
  
I found him back at his desk, glasses on, looking through a pile of paperwork on   
his desk. He looked up as soon as my feet were with his range.  
  
"How did it go?" he asked, taking his glasses off and placing them on the desk.  
  
"Fine. I have maternity leave in about four and a half months. I decided I wanted   
a little time before the baby came." Mulder nodded.  
  
"So he didn't pry?"  
  
I raised my eyebrows. "Mulder, I highly doubt he doesn't know. I just think he's   
not willing to ask."  
  
Mulder smiled. "I did think he was a turkey, but never a chicken." He checked his   
watch. "It's about eleven. Want to duck out for an early lunch?"  
  
"Mulder, regardless of the fact you may hate it, this is still work."  
  
He glanced at the papers around him. "This isn't work, Scully. This is   
punishment."  
  
I sighed and sat down in my own desk behind him. "Punishment or not, it pays the   
bills. Especially the $387 bill on your credit card from Toys-R-Us®."  
  
Mulder just grinned. "A baby has to get a few toys."  
  
"Define a few for me, Mulder."  
  
He let his hands fall down to the desk. "Okay, Scully you win. I work. Besides I   
do need to pay off the crib I just ordered."  
  
Crib? I don't want to know.  
  
"Think of as a break from investigating mutants, Mulder. Somehow I don't think   
this baby will work around your X-Files investigating' schedule."  
  
Mulder looked up from the paperwork he had just gone back to. "If we ever get   
them back," he mumbled before going back to work.  
  
Baby or no baby, some things never change.  
  
  
_Later that day_  
  
Mulder had gone back to his paperwork for exactly five minutes when the fire   
alarm sounded. The entire building spent the next forty-five minutes standing across the   
street as the fire department declared the J. Edgar Hoover Building safe. Thanks to   
someone who left their cigarette to close their own paperwork (Mulder has his own   
theories about that situation, of course), Mulder had his excuse not to work. Shortly after the fire escapade, he dragged me out to lunch and it was straight to the OB from there.  
  
I had a two o'clock appointment for a sonogram. Since I was five months along,   
we would be able to see more, and even determine the sex of the baby.  
  
Personally, even though I wanted a girl, I didn't want to spoil the surprise of   
discovering the sex of the baby before it decided to enter this world. I've had this   
discussion with Mulder, about whether or not to find out the sex. I think Mulder wants to know, but we agreed either both of us finds out now, or both of us finds out at the birth. Not one now and one at the birth. That could risk one telling the other. So, part of me wanted to know, the other part didn't. Which would win? I hadn't decided yet.  
  
I caught Mulder leafing through Parenting™ Magazine in the waiting room. He   
continues to surprise me. The same sunflower eating, porn watching, paranoid as all hell man was also a sucker for babies. Who would have figured?  
  
He even took the magazine into the exam room, and kept pointing out things as I   
sat on the cold table, bearing the stirrups. Mulder did gulp when he saw those. I have a   
feeling he may want to step out of the room during that part of the examination. Oh, well, you can't exactly blame him for that.   
  
"Did you know that a lot of new names are coming out?" he said, looking up from   
the magazine. "Madison. Who wants to name their kid after a sports arena?"  
  
I smile and raise my eyebrows. "Well, your name's not exactly normal' either."  
  
He looked back down at the pages. "I am not going to punish any kid by naming   
him Fox'."  
  
"It's not that bad of a name. It's unique."  
  
Mulder just gives me a look. "Well, I'm not of those people who insists the first   
son be named after the father. There are plenty of other names you could pick from."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
He grinned. "Well, we could always name him Melvin."  
  
He ducks to miss the magazine I throw at him.  
  
"So you think it's going to be a boy?"   
  
He looks at me. "I didn't say what I thought it was going to be."  
  
"No preference?"  
  
"You're not going to trick me, Scully," he say with a smile. "I'm not telling."  
  
So much for my definite vote for a girl. Oh, well, he has to crack sometime. My   
OB, Rebecca Johnson, comes in soon, and for the first time, sees I have someone with me. However, she doesn't pry. A lot of people haven't been prying, and while it's a comfort, I find it a little strange. Like there's something I'm not seeing.  
  
Paranoid, Dana, not everyone is interested in your personal life.  
  
Five years in the basement sure gave me a new look on the world.  
  
She goes through the normal exam first, with Mulder casually lifting his magazine   
up to cover his face. He made a comment about how the price difference in diapers was   
very interesting, when I knew he was just trying to stall until that part of the exam was   
over.  
  
Finally we got down to the one part I knew Mulder had been looking forward to:   
the sonogram. As soon as something began to show up on the scene, he eyes perked up and he followed it as if it were the truth he had been searching for his whole life.   
  
"So what is it?" he asked.  
  
"Don't you want it to be a surprise?"  
  
He looked at me for the answer. We had both had enough surprises in our life,   
enough twists and turns, it might be nice to know what we were expecting for once. So   
that we could prepare, so that we were at our best.  
  
But then again, we're not talking about aliens taking over the earth (I still doubt   
that would happen) we're talking about the sex of the baby, here.  
  
I shook my head. Some surprises were nice. He nodded in agreement.  
  
"Besides, I have a bet with Frohike going."  
  
I don't want to know what the winner of that bet gets. Though the Gunmen have   
been sweet, sending me a gift certificate to a maternity store. Frohike had added to the   
bottom of the card, "Though you would look good where ever you shop." I dropped the   
card back to the kitchen table when I read that, but I decided it was a sweet gesture. And I _did_ need maternity clothes.  
  
So about a half hour later, Mulder and I were walking out of the doctor's office,   
Mulder muttering something about buying a frame so we could show the sonogram to the baby when it got older.  
  
And sure enough he did buy one, adorned with flying saucers.   
  
Years from now, I'll laugh at it, and maybe the baby will to.  



	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6  


  
_Month Six – babytime _  
  
If you worked in the FBI and didn't know that Dana Scully was pregnant, then you   
were living under a rock. A very big rock. I got so many congratulations that I was sick   
of smiling and saying "thank you." I could not longer hide the fact I was pregnant; I was   
now in the smaller maternity clothes, but definitely gaining weight. I heard the rumors   
going around, that Fox Mulder had finally planted the seed' into Dana Scully, and for   
once wasn't upset about them. They were right, but I wasn't about the spill the beans   
unless someone directly asked. And I hadn't met anyone brave enough yet.  
  
Until I ran into Walter Skinner.   
  
I don't why I was near his office, perhaps it was something about paperwork and   
such, but I nearly bumped into to him, coming very close to losing the stack of papers I   
held in my hand.   
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Scully," he said as I straightened the papers I had. I felt his   
glance fall down toward my stomach. "I heard about youraddition. Congratulations."  
  
"Thank you, sir," I said, smiling.  
  
"Scully you don't have to call me sir anymore, I'm not your boss," he replied with   
a smile. "I suppose that you and the father are very happy."  
  
I noticed how he said "the father" like he wanted to say more. "Yes, we are."  
  
"Sharon and I were happy when were expecting our first, too."  
  
I frowned. I had no idea the Skinner had any children. "You have children, sir?"  
  
He shook his head. "The baby was stillborn. We never did get the courage to try   
again."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"That's okay, I'm sure that you and Mulder will have the best of luck-" He   
stopped when he realized he had said "Mulder." He paused. "I didn't mean that-, well,   
what I meant was, aw, hell, is he?"  
  
"You mean Mulder, sir?"  
  
He nodded. "For the sake of the FBI."  
  
"Yes, but for now it's our secret. If anyone else wants to know, they ask   
themselves."  
  
He smiled. "See how many will do that," he said as he walked away.  
  
Three days later Mulder and I received a delivery. A high chair courtesy of a   
Walter Skinner.  
  
Mulder was stunned; I just smiled.  
  
Go figure.  
  
Our job had been mundane; background checks had never been very interesting to   
begin with. I found Mulder's Doom™ tournaments more interesting than the paperwork   
that piled up on my desk. There was one good thing about background checks, though.   
Mulder hadn't had a work related injury in months, well, with the exception of the boating accident about nine months(or was it ten?) back, but you really couldn't call that work related. It was more like one-of-Mulder's-half-assed-jaunts related. Since this baby thing, I have noticed that he seems to be becoming a little more careful. Is Fox Mulder actually thinking first and using good judgment?  
  
Nah. Has to be my imagination.  
  
Today was Tuesday, a beautifully clear day in the beginning of July. Mulder and I   
had stopped by my mother's for Fourth of July last weekend, and Mulder had avoided my also visiting brother Bill at all costs. Surprisingly, there was no bloodshed. Bill and   
Mulder both behaved, like civilized men, an occurrence I truly believed would never   
happen. Never say never, I guess.  
  
I'm surprised at how normal my life has become lately. Nothing strange has   
happened, and I'm almost afraid to say that I miss that. I never pictured myself falling in   
love with my partner, having a child, and having awell, a normal life. Something tells me that this can't be happening. I'm almost expecting someone to rain on my parade. I find myself looking over my shoulder, always trying to find the catch. After all that has happened to me, there has to be a catch. Right?  
  
I just don't know anymore. One day at a time, I take it. One day at a time. I   
can't go wrong with that.  
  
_  
6 months, three weeks – babytime_  
  
Well, another uneventful three weeks have passed. The baby is fine, I couldn't be   
better, and Mulder has used every curse in the book (plus he invented some of his own)   
trying to put up a crib yesterday.  
  
We're living in my two bedroom apartment; he's now given up the lease on his,   
something that definitely signifies commitment. I still don't have a ring on my finger,   
marriage hasn't even been discussed. However, it has been placed on the table. Neither of us is in a rush, though. We love each other, but marriage? I think this baby may be old enough to participate in the wedding if we continue at our rate.   
  
But what is marriage, but a slip of paper and a joint tax return?  
  
Union of two people in the face of God, Dana.  
  
Oh, yeah, there's that.  
  
My mom already has a guest list. It's only a matter of time before she starts   
dropping stronger hints.  
  
Oh well, I have bigger things to think about now. Like names. Names are a big   
argument between Mulder and I. We both have lists and they do not meet – anywhere.  
  
Both lists hang on the refrigerator, with various cross outs and new entries.  
  
Mulder's boy name of the week: Andrew.  
  
Mine: Sean.  
  
His girl's name: Elizabeth.  
  
Mine: Anne.  
  
At least we're in favor of old-fashioned, normal names. We just have to agree.   
We're both stubborn; neither wants to sacrifice either name.  
  
He suggested Elizabeth Anne for the girl's name. I said why not Anne Elizabeth.  
  
One of us has to comprise.  
  
Well, we have about two months to try.  
  
Let's hope this baby does not decide to come early.  
  
  
_6 months, three weeks, and three days – babytime_  
  
The due is approaching. _Very_ slowly. My ankles are swelling and the   
Washington, DC July heat is not letting up. At least I'm delivering in September, when   
it's cooler.  
  
Yet, with our weather pattern, who knows?  
  
I had a meeting with Kersh today. His reasons weren't specified; something about   
my maternity leave. Mulder bid me a small "have fun" without looking up from his   
computer screen. He is becoming something of a computer junkie lately. Just as I was   
leaving, he looked up.  
  
"I'll go pick up lunch," he promised. I nodded in agreement and went to wait for   
my appointment.  
  
It was after sitting outside of Kersh's office for 48 minutes (I was counting) that I   
was beginning to get a bit annoyed. My stomach was rumbling, and I could feel the baby having a kicking frenzy inside of my stomach. No more 11 a.m. meetings.  
  
I glanced up at Kersh's secretary for about the millionth time, ready to tear her   
apart of she said "I'm sure it will be any minute" another time.  
  
I was jolted out of my secretary attacking thoughts by the ring my cell phone.  
  
Geez, Mulder, what's so hard about picking up lunch? You've done it before.  
  
I found my phone and answered it, "What, Mulder?" instead of my usual "Scully."  
  
"Is this Dana Scully?"  
  
That definitely wasn't Mulder. Suddenly I got a bad feeling in the pit of my   
stomach. The baby's kicking stopped; perhaps it sensed something too. I had read   
something about how babies can channel into your emotions.  
  
"Yes, who's calling?" Please tell me that you're asking me to renew my   
subscription to "The New York Times."   
  
"My name is Tina Parks, and I'm a nurse at Washington General-"  
  
Oh, God, don't say it.  
  
"—and we have a Fox Mulder here. According to the information we found on   
him, you're his next-of-kin. Is that correct?"  
  
That bad feeling is the pit of my stomach made it's way to my throat. "Yes,   
what's happened?" Calm, I have to remain calm. I always remain calm.  
  
"Mr. Mulder has been is car accident and-"  
  
"How bad?" The words were out of my mouth before I could even think; before I   
could even breathe. Just let him be okay. I heard the woman pause, something I knew   
was a bad sign.  
  
"I won't lie to you, Ms. Scully. I think you should get down here right away. He   
was sideswiped, well actually according to the police-" She paused again, I knew she was considering whether or not to share information with me that the police should tell me themselves. I heard my own breathing hitch. This was just happening.  
  
"he was most likely-, most likely run off the road. I think you should get down   
here as soon as possible."  
  
I couldn't speak. I heard the line disconnect, but I just sat there with the phone in   
my hand, not moving, not doing much of anything. Finally I let the phone drop to my lap   
with a gentle thud, my stomach taking its fall. I didn't even notice.   
  
Run. Off. The Road. The catch, this was the catch.   
  
But why not me? I'm the one with the precious cargo. Unless they are going to   
start one family member at a time.  
  
I feel a pang in my stomach. This can't be happening. This just can't be   
happening.  
  
I can feel the gaze of Kersh's secretary.  
  
"Are you all right, Agent Scully?"  
  
That question couldn't be farther from the truth.   



	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7******  


  
_Still six months, three weeks, three days – babytime _  
  
How many times have you been here before, Dana?  
  
I think I've lost count. To me this is just another waiting room, just another   
hospital stay to add to the long list.  
  
One of this days he's not going to come home.  
  
Please don't let that be today.  
  
I got down to the hospital as fast as an almost seven-month pregnant woman   
could. I think I sped through at least two red lights.   
  
Now I'm sitting the surgical waiting room, a room that's not foreign to me. It's   
just another four walls, just another nervous nail biting waiting period. It's just another   
stack of insurance forms to fill out.  
  
Or is it?  
  
Things are different now. I move my hand down to my stomach and absently rub   
it. Things are different.  
  
My mother joined me about an hour ago. I don't know who called her, but I'm   
glad they did. He's been in surgery for almost four hours now.   
  
That's a long time. But he's had longer.  
  
I talked to the doctor. He's a mess, basically. Hit his head on the dashboard; he's   
lucky he missed the windshield. He doesn't has airbags in his car; something that I   
constantly argue with him about. We usually take my car because of it. But today we left at different times, in different cars.   
  
I should have made him take my car.  
His other injuries include internal bleeding, broken ribs, and a nice little   
pneumothorax caused by one of the ribs that basically decided to snap in half.   
  
I'm calm, I'm surprisingly calm.  
  
That is what is worrying me the most.  
  
The police talked to me also. They had five eyewitnesses who saw a brown van   
tailgate Mulder for almost five minutes, before it suddenly pushed itself forward, causing   
Mulder to easily lose control.  
  
The car had no license plates. And tinted windows. No one saw the driver.   
  
Oh and the car was abandoned less then two miles from the hospital, wiped   
completely clean of any fingerprints.  
  
And I'm calm.   
  
Secretly, I'm thinking about how many people I could knockoff with my gun. I   
leave my hand on my stomach. One thing I don't want to do now is get myself so worked up that I send myself into labor.  
  
Mulder would kill me if I had this baby without him.  
  
I don't want to have this baby without him. I can just think of the crib at home   
he's worked so hard to put together. He finished it two days ago and yesterday it   
collapsed. I should have seen it coming.  
  
Just like the table that collapsed in the _Joy Luck Club_. I remember high school   
English class. Didn't my English teacher say that in every story when something fell or   
collapsed that it foreshadowed a bad situation to come?   
  
I never did like English. Science was definitely more my forte. That way   
everything always had a definite answer, there was no "it could go either way" or "you   
have to read between the lines to see the true meaning." At least not in my schooling.   
  
The X-Files and Mulder couldn't have proved me more wrong.   
  
I think in the fifth hour of surgery I fell asleep because the next thing I knew   
someone was shaking my shoulder.  
  
"Ms. Scully?" I sit up suddenly, cursing myself for falling asleep. I find a doctor   
dressed in green scrubs standing in front of me, a chart in hands.  
  
"Mr. Mulder is out of surgery."   
  
Out of surgery? I glance at the clock on the wall and discover I've only been   
asleep for about half an hour. I stop cursing myself.   
  
"How is he?" I manage to mumble, my voice not completely with it yet.  
  
The doctor gripped the chart in his hands, something I recognized as a I've got   
bad news to tell you' grip. A girl I went to medical school with used the tactic; I told her   
that it tips off the family members immediately. She still did it.   
  
"I'll be honest with you, Ms. Scully, he's in bad shape. We managed to patch him   
up, but he's not out of the woods. The head injury is what we're most concerned with, so the next 24-48 hours will be critical."  
  
"Can I see him?" It was my first impulse, besides wanting to go out and personally   
shoot the person responsible for this accident.  
  
The doctor nodded. "He's been taken up to ICU. I'll let them know you're   
coming."  
  
After that, I kinda just walked up there as if on autopilot. I knew the way; I've   
walked these walls a lot more than I'd admit. Mulder tends to go between Washington   
General and Northwestern Georgetown. It mostly depends on which one is closer at the   
time of the incident.   
  
The next hours are a blur. I sit mostly by his bedside, spending the maximum time   
that I'm allowed at his bedside. My mother forces me down the cafeteria, I call in sick for work. Only twenty-four hours go by, but it seems like a lifetime. Sit, get up, eat. I do eat, but not for myself, but for the baby. I figure I might as well have some common   
sense.  
  
Mulder's a fighter and doesn't surprise me. After twenty-five hours he's awake.   
And then goes right back to sleep after groggily acknowledging me. It's three hours later when he awakes again wanting to know how long he's going to be laid up here that I know he's going to be okay.   
  
And I can't be happier. Yet, it still bothers me.  
  
If they wanted him dead, then why didn't they do the job completely then?  
  
  
_Seven months, four days -- babytime_  
  
"I've been here for eight days, Scully. I want to go home."  
  
He's whining like a two year old. And I love it. He's really making a great   
recovery. Just this morning, I found him with a baby catalog in his lap and a credit card in his hand. How he got a hold of the catalog, I don't know, but I decided that he has to get out of here soon before my (correction, now our') apartment is mistake for Toys R Us.  
  
Now he's looking at me again, with that look he's been perfecting for the last six   
years. All I can do is smile and go to find his doctor to talk about release papers. He's   
beaming and talking about a nice comforter he found for the crib he built.  
  
I still haven't had the heart to tell him the crib he spent so much time putting up   
collapsed. Yet, somehow, I know he won't mind putting it back up.   
  
Either that or he gives in and pays the extra fifteen dollars for construction.  
  
  
_Seven months, 19 days_  
  
He's been home for a week and a half and things are going back to normal, well,   
what you can call normal for Mulder. He was disappointed to see the crib back in pieces, but putting it back to together is the least strenuous activity I find him happy with. He seems to have forgotten how he still has another week and a half of medical leave before he can even step foot in the FBI.   
  
Maybe next I should buy a self-assembling high chair.   
  
"Shit! Damn piece of-"  
  
Then again, maybe not.  
  
My mind has almost forgotten about the accident, but almost isn't enough in my   
book. The police found no leads; the case was going nowhere. Mulder was alive and   
almost as good as new, so I tried to concentrate on that. But I still can't get rid of the   
feeling I have in the pit of my stomach.   
  
Neither can the baby. He or she kicks like crazy whenever I seem to think about   
it. I don't know what to make of that. Things have been too easy. I somehow doubt that "they" would just leave us alone. As my due date grows closer, I just get more worried. September 14th is circled on my calendar, but all I feel is dread about that day.   
  
I curse myself for that feeling. A baby brings joy, but then you throw in the last six   
years of my life and . . . well, you don't exactly get the best feeling in the world. Maybe   
I'm just paranoid.   
  
Mulder taught me well.  
  
"Scully?"   
  
I turn and find him holding his hand, a look of pain on his face. I sigh and take his   
palm, and look at the nice three inch gash that it now has.  
  
"I think we should have someone come and assemble the crib," he says weakly and   
all I can do is laugh.  
  
"Ok, but first back to the ER. You're going to need stitches," I answer, picking   
up the car keys. He grimaces.  
  
Yes, things are definitely getting back to normal in the Mulder world, at least.  
  
  
_Eight months _  
  
August 14th has arrived. The one month countdown has continued. My mother   
told me she started packing for the hospital at eight months, just in case. That was a good thing, too, because I was two and a half weeks early. I decided I wasn't going to be unpacked when this baby let me know it wanted out. Thus, at eight months, my bag was packed and by the door. Mulder just shook his head. I just smiled.  
  
"Babies are like the government, Mulder. They arrive when they want, on their   
own schedule."  
  
"Own schedule? Yeah, I guess even screwing the people has a schedule these   
days." From my position on the couch, I throw a pillow at him. He just ducks and goes   
back to the paperwork he has laid in front of him.   
  
Mulder's gone back to work, though he has another week before he's totally   
cleared to go into the field again. He's just been catching up on paperwork, a hell of a lot of paperwork. Yes, we're still on background checks. And yes, Mulder's less than   
enthusiastic, just as before.   
  
My maternity leave starts in about two weeks, though I can tell Mulder wishes I   
would talk off earlier. He's lucky I'm taking off two weeks _before_ the baby. If I really   
listened to what I wanted, I'd be working until I went into labor. But I know I need some   
time off, and I have swollen ankles to prove it.  
  
I've been getting a lot of "You still here?" and "When is that baby due?" at work,   
so I really do need to get out of there. They are driving me nuts. Especially all the   
women who I never talk to who come up to me and give me advice that I don't want and I   
don't need. Why does everybody think that just because I'm pregnant I need every piece of child rearing advice I can get? Plus, no one ever agrees. I've gotten more   
contradictions than agreements. It's very confusing.  
  
Mulder and I still can't agree on a name. He's still insistent about the name   
Elizabeth, and refuses to name a baby girl anything other than that. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if we had a boy.   
  
I still want that girl, though.   
  
The crib is up, thanks to my neighbor Nick upstairs who had just finishing   
assembling his niece's the week before. Mulder grumbled throughout the whole process, but it was basically because he was pissed he couldn't do it himself. He got over it quick, as soon as he discovered that Nick was a Knicks fan. And thankfully a married Knicks fan. I try to remind him that I'm eight months pregnant, why would I go shopping now, but he doesn't listen. That's jealousy for you. And for some reason that's kind of nice.  
  
Life has become what I thought I'd hate. Somewhat normal hours, and a family. I   
had always wanted a family, but somehow I had pictured it differently. However, some   
things are meant to be.  
  
Meant to be. That statement itself gives me a shiver. I keep thinking its just a   
charade. That they're' (why do I say that I always wonder) just waiting for Mulder's and   
my guard to go down. That out baby is going to be tested and   
  
I have an overactive imagination.  
  
Or maybe not. It seemed I'm more paranoid then Mulder these days. Though, I   
know when he thinks I'm not looking, he's e-mailing the guys' and putting them on the   
lookout. Yeah, this is a real storybook romance, all right. Perhaps I should start writing   
children's books while I'm at it.  
  
During my last week at work, I got an interesting proposition offered to me by AD   
Kersh. I could say good-bye to background checks and field work until my maternity   
leave and for two months after it to go back to the autopsy game. At first, I considered it garbage and suspected something was behind it, but in the end, Mulder got me to take it. Said it would allow me more time with the baby for the first couple of months.   
  
"You can always chase a fertilizer truck, Scully," he teased, and was in surprisingly   
good spirits. For some reason I think it's the fact that word got down that the X-Files   
solving percentage is down. Way down. At this rate, though, I'm afraid Mulder may   
resort to stealing them from the filing cabinets in the basement. If only it were basketball season  
  
  
_8 months, 14 days_  
  
My heart's still pounding.   
  
Today was not a good day.  
  
It was my last day of work before my maternity leave started. My mother was   
taking me baby item shopping the next day, excited as could be over the fact the two week countdown was about to begin. However, she was going to drag me past the weeding displays I knew, but I wouldn't mind so much.  
  
After today, I don't think I feel like shopping.  
  
It was simple really. Some coworkers had (to my surprise) decided to give me a   
cake and a kind of baby shower. Turns out, since Mulder and I got involved, that I   
seemed a little brighter' to some people. I hadn't noticed a change. I still don't think   
there is one. The thought was nice and I was all set to leave, a bag of baby gifts ready to take with me, when I noticed a small white envelope next to the bag.   
  
I had picked it up, thinking I'd neglected it before and it went with one of the gifts.   
Curious, I had opened it, reading its contents. My demeanor changed immediately.  
  
"No accident' is a mistake. It's only a warning. Watch your step." The sentence   
has ingrained itself in my memory. It could be prank, but the line, typed in its simplicity   
seemed like no prank to me. Mulder was the same, taking the paper and starting his own private investigation. I'm just off on my own, thinking of what it meant. I never saw   
anyone drop the note off.  
  
What made it even worse was the same message was in an e-mail sent to my   
mailbox, the returning address not existing. It was a warning. What was going on here? I had two weeks until my due and now this? Something was going to happen.  
  
Mulder immediately asked for two weeks off, and was on the phone at least an   
hour tonight, before pulling me into the bedroom and telling me to pack.  
  
"What is going on?" is my immediate reaction.  
  
"Frohike got a hold of some security tapes from the Bureau. Someone likes us,   
Scully. Just enough to tell us to get the hell out of here. At least until you have that   
baby."  
  
"What a minute, Mulder. I'm just as worried as you are, but where are we going   
to go?"   
  
"The guys found us a place. Upstate New York. And someone who might be able   
to help us lose the trail." He's throwing clothes into a duffel bag and starts to open my   
drawers as well. For a moment he stops and meets my eye, before stepping toward me. "I love you, Scully. I'll explain everything on the way, I promise. Just trust me?"  
  
I start going through my drawers.  



	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
******  


It had to be bad. We were in a rental car, driving to New York. A car rented with   
aliases, and we were most definitely not leaving a paper trail behind us.   
  
"Mulder, what the hell is going on?" I felt as if we had moved so fast that a cloud   
of dust could seen behind us. I heard him sigh and grip the wheel tighter. "Mulder."  
  
"My accident' Scully. I kept trying to tell myself it was an accident, but   
someone's toying with us."  
  
"You always think someone is toying with you Mulder--"  
  
"No, Scully, I'm right about this," he interrupts, his voice determined. "You   
couldn't conceive before, we should have seen it right there—"  
  
It was my turn to interrupt. "Wait a minute, Mulder, there are such things as   
miracles—"  
  
"Scully, I know about your strong Catholic roots, but this is far from the story of   
Elizabeth suddenly conceiving a child after years of no success and age against her. You always talk about science and face it, Scully, science was against us."  
  
I was silent. I sat, taking in what he had just said.   
  
"What did your OB say when you talked about your infertility, Scully?"  
  
I turn to look at him, thinking for a moment. "She said that mistakes can be made   
and be grateful."  
  
"Yeah, about your test results."  
  
"Perhaps I had a sudden regrowth—"  
  
"Of thousands of eggs, healthy and just waiting for sperm to create thousands of   
babies."  
  
"What are you talking about, Mulder?" I suddenly jerked his hand, causing him to   
jam on the brakes. Thank God from the nearly empty road. I knew that I had no idea   
what he was talking about. My doctor had simply said that a regrowth of a few eggs was explainable, but what was Mulder talking about?  
  
"Mulder, I need an explanation."  
  
Another sigh came from him. "Scully, that OB, that doctor of yours, is lying.   
According to a report that Gunmen got their hands on you could easily populate a small   
city. We could have a very large and very healthy family."  
  
I was suddenly breathless. I could hear Mulder pulling over to the side of the road   
and eventually my door being opened. I looked to find Mulder's eyes staring into my   
own.   
  
"I found out last night."  
  
"That the kind of thing you should share, Mulder."  
  
He takes my hand and placed it on my stomach. "Well, the result is worth   
whatever happened."  
  
I begin to wonder what else he found out the night before. "Mulder, what else did   
the Gunmen tell you?"  
  
Another sigh. That is beginning to become the trademark that comes with back   
news. "We're being watched, Scully. More than usual. Whoever gave' you back the   
ability to conceive is lurking. Maybe for payment. But if it's our smoker behind this, I'm   
not sure what the hell he wants."  
  
"The baby's healthy, Mulder. Normal. What could they want with it?"  
  
"I keep wondering, Scully. They perhaps that result of those tests you had done   
were doctored as well. It's our baby, yes, but what else could be—"  
  
"I still worry about that, too, Mulder." I do worry about it. About how this baby   
could turn out like Emily. However, I kept convincing myself my fears were unfounded.   
Until now. "Mulder, we _made_ this baby. Us. Not some laboratory."   
  
"I can't help but think that us becoming a couple was just an added bonus to our   
plan. That you getting pregnant because of a night we spent together was just an added convenience; they didn't have to kidnap us to accomplish."  
  
"That's very paranoid, Mulder. Even more then usual."  
  
Mulder gives me a grin. "I love you. I want things to be okay, Scully. I want, for   
once, everything to be okay. I never thought I'd say this, but for once, I wish I was   
something boring like an accountant, living in a little white house, in a little town in the   
middle of perfect suburbia."  
  
"You'd get bored. I'd get bored."  
  
"You're probably right." Giving my hand one last squeeze he closes my door and   
climbs back into the driver seat and pretty soon we're back on the road toward a   
destination that could bring unknown disaster.  
  
  
_3 days later  
Upstate New York _  
  
The cabin was nice, definitely a quiet vacation spot. The Gunmen had planned   
well; the place was well stocked and belonged to a subscriber of theirs who turned out to be a doctor in the Big Apple. Of course, I think his wife is a little wary of the fact that her husband has such connections. However, Mark and Judy Andrews, as they introduced themselves when we arrived, we there to stay with us. Both Mulder and Byers had agreed that since I obviously couldn't seek medical help if something went wrong during the birth, a doctor could come in handy. Especially when I learned Mark was an OB. I could pry. I could. But I'll save that for the car trip home.   
  
The place has enough medical supplies to deliver ten babies, if you ask me.   
Mulder is just a tad over-protective. Almost immediately after arriving, he has Mark   
examine me. Then I sat down with a lot of information I got from Mulder. Then I saw it   
all.  
  
The test results revealed the fact that I was a perfectly normal female. A piece of   
information that would normally have me up dancing for joy now had me suspicious and   
nosy. They seemed to be dirty fingerprints all over every test I had performed during my pregnancy. My own doctor had referred the OB to me. However, I now had photocopied prove that Dr. Rebecca Johnson had entered into a deal with someone for a great deal money. And though the details were sketchy it seemed that the answer was simple -   
information about me was the exchange. I saw the appeal of the money that could help   
further a growing practice. Still, the ethics of medicine had gotten lost in the shuffle.  
  
This was all three days ago. I had been pondering this all for three days. I have a   
week and a half left till my due date, but the baby has definitely dropped. It seems that I'll be delivering before my due date. I have to admit, though, I think I'll miss being pregnant. After having a human being inside you for so long, I started to think about what it would be like after he or she was gone.   
  
She. I wanted a she. I was still stuck on Anne. However, Mulder's insistence on   
Elizabeth was beginning to wear me down as well. Mulder was in love with calling a little girl Beth' and I hate to deny him a pleasure.  
  
But it is me that will be delivering this child.  
  
And that is something I will not have him forget.  
  
  
_The countdown - 9 days to go_  
  
"False labor, Mulder. I can happen with the first pregnancy."  
  
I am only trying to tell him that for the eightieth time. Mark gave up and went   
back to bed after it had been determined there was going to be no baby tonight.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Mulder had turned into a nervous father. He was an example of those fathers you   
see on TV that can't find their keys when their wives suddenly go into labor. Oh, of   
course, there was one difference. I wasn't his wife.   
  
Judy had been trying to sell me on marriage. It wasn't that I wasn't sold on the   
idea, but that I didn't want anyone to think Mulder and I had just tied the knot because he knocked me up.' We loved each other and that was what mattered. I think.  
  
"Do you need anything, Scully? Anything?"  
  
Another thing that Judy and Mark picked up on was how Mulder and I still call   
each other by our last names. We tried to explain, but somehow it was an inside joke that only we understood. I couldn't call him Fox' he would call me Dana' on occasion but it still seemed like a foreign word from his lips. I'd always be Scully' he'd always be Mulder.'  
  
"Mulder, I'm _fine_. For the thousandth time, I'm _fine."  
  
"Don't you think that's getting a bit old, Scully," Mulder teases me and I hit him   
on the shoulder, before preparing to get up. That's another thing. Petite as I am, it's   
getting harder and harder to get up. I will not miss that little bothersome adventure' after this baby's delivered.  
  
I change the subject as a serious thought crosses my mind. "Mulder, have you   
gotten any new' information?"  
  
"From Frohike?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"Nothing. They seem to have hit a dead end. We may have thrown them off   
course, Scully. I think they want something with the delivery. After we get past that, we should be home free."  
  
"What makes you so sure about that."  
  
"I got a theory." He flashed me another grin.   
  
I give a little laugh. "Like I haven't heard that one before." Walking into the   
bedroom, I expect to hear Mulder's footsteps on my heel. Instead I heard them retreating.   
  
"Mulder?"  
  
"Just going to check my e-mail, Scully."  
  
"This late?"  
  
"Theories don't know what time it is."   
  
Of course, after that comment, I know I'll find asleep at the computer the next   
morning.  
  
  
_8 days to go._  
  
I didn't find Mulder asleep at the computer the next morning. Instead I found him   
sitting on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
"Someone has tracked us to the rental agency, Scully. But Langly said that luckily   
they found a barren trail after that."  
  
"The baby—"  
  
"Right, Scully. You have to have that baby. The sooner the better. Before they   
pick up the trail again."  
  
I stop to let his words set in.  



	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 ******  


  
"Are you sure you want to do this, Scully?"  
  
"No turning back now, Mulder."  
  
If it had been six years ago, I would have believed Mulder was completely   
paranoid and completely nuts about me having this baby as soon as possible. Of course, it wasn't six years ago and I wanted to go back to my apartment.  
  
I also wanted to be able to get out of a sitting position without any difficulty.  
  
The moment I had calmed down about my pregnancy, I had read every piece of   
literature ever written on the subject. One interesting piece of text was one I'd heard   
about but never truly looked into. It was the natural' ways to induce labor. I had   
thought they were a load of crap.  
  
And nine hours later, I've decided that while they may work for some women, they   
did _crap_ for me. All I gained was embarrassment and comments from the peanut galley of Fox Mulder.  
  
So, now here I was, sitting up against about five pillows, in the room Mulder and I   
were staying in. I had a fetal monitor up, an IV in, and an angry OB, against a Pitocin-  
induced labor for no medical reason.   
  
I then learned just how persuasive Mulder's seeming paranoid mind can be when it   
comes to crisis. Mark was still against it, but seems to be looking over his shoulder every five minutes.  
  
As if someone would come into plain site.  
  
What am I saying? Do I think someone is going to take this baby from me?  
  
Whoah, I better not answer that one.   
  
I wasn't all together happy about the prospect of inducing labor, myself. I had   
wanted to have this baby the natural way. I'd go into labor, Mulder would freak out,   
we'd go to the hospital and hours later (I wasn't even thinking about labor pains) we'd   
have a little baby.  
  
What was I high on when I thought that concept up?  
  
I was most definitely not looking forward to labor at this point. Despite the fact   
that Pitocin can take hours to work (or not even work at all - I am not going to think   
about that situation), the contractions are more rapid on onset (quoting a textbook there, Dana?) and can be more intense. Not to mention the greater chance of needing a C-Section.  
  
I was most definitely _not_ going to think about that.  
  
Yes, right now I am going to think about the end result - a little baby, soft and   
sweet. And I don't even care if it's a boy or girl.  
  
Okay, maybe I care a little.  
  
  
_11 hours later.  
_  
Okay, now I definitely don't care if it's a boy or a girl.  
  
I just want it _out_.  
  
Since I was having this labor induced I had decided that I wouldn't use any drugs,   
hence make this birth somewhat natural'.  
  
Once again, _what_ was I thinking??  
  
It's wasn't so bad at first. Then one contraction hit and well, without an x-ray, no   
one can prove I broken Mulder's hand. Surprisingly, though, he's still here, coaching me, nursing an ice pack over very swollen knuckles.  
  
Yet, I still want to use every curse word known to man. Ironic world, huh?  
  
The contractions are getting closer together and I can't wait for this whole thing to   
be over. I suddenly have this urge to call for my mother (who, by the way, is going to be   
_pissed_ when she finds out I had this baby without her presence nearby) and have her   
kiss it better.  
  
"Is it too late to say that I've changed my mind?" Shit, did I just say that sentence   
out loud?  
  
I hear Mark. "I think so, Dana."   
  
I did say it out loud. Score one for weakness, Dana.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want anything? Pretty soon you'll be at the point of no   
return. It's just full speed ahead from there, Dana."  
  
"I know." Breathe. Think back to the Lamaze classes. I get a mental picture of   
Mulder's shock at the childbirth video we had to watch. Geez, after everything we've   
seen, I would have never guessed childbirth would make Mulder jumpy. "And no." I look   
at Mulder, who is trying to hide the pain from his hand from me. He smiles.  
  
"Hey, just hold out a little longer. You're doing great."  
  
His words, though sincere, don't mean a crock of shit to me at this moment.   
  
"Easy for you to say."  
  
I should be more compassionate, perhaps, as I think back an hour to Mulder   
declining painkillers himself, but hell, I'm in labor. And it hurts.  
  
I had asked my mother about the actual labor. She was in labor for 36 hours with   
Bill, and by the time she got to Charlie she was down to an 8 hour labor. Well, 8 hours   
passed for me, and I am praying it's not going to be 36.  
  
Another contraction hits me, and I look for something to grab onto. I closed my   
eyes, and was ready to gab air when I feel a familiar hand latch onto mine. I open my eyes and was surprised to see Mulder's good hand holding onto mine.  
  
I was never more in love with him as at this moment.  
  
The contraction eased and his eyes look into mine.  
  
"Scully?"  
  
"What?" I'm sweaty, unattractive, in pain, and not the most happy camper at this   
point.   
  
"Marry me."  
  
"What?" I stare at him for a couple of minutes. "Mulder, I -"  
  
Of course, another contraction interrupts me. I hear Mulder's voice through it,   
though and as the pain eases once again, I try to think about what he's just asked me.   
  
Mulder asked me to marry him.  
  
What am I going to say?  
  
He's still looking at me, and I know he wants an answer. Then before the next   
contraction hits, I smile at him.  
  
"If I get to pick the name."  
  
"No way!" he murmurs and goes to kiss me.   
  
A contraction interrupts him, however, and it's more intense this time.   
  
"Beth is the perfect, name, Scully."  
  
"So . . ." Breathe. "sure . . . it's . . . going . . . to . . . be . . . a girl?" After all this,   
it better be a girl.  
  
"I have a theory on this, Scully. The Gunmen are running 2 - to - 1 odds on it."  
  
"Don't make me laugh, Mulder."  
  
"I'm not." I can picture the pout as I close my eyes against another contraction.   
They are coming closer.  
  
Hopefully it won't be much longer.  
  
_17 hours into labor._  
  
Not much longer, my _ass._  
  
Mulder's words stopping being comforting and staring becoming annoying about   
four hours ago. That was when, Mark had told me "looking great, the way you're   
dilating, it shouldn't be much longer."  
  
Then my dilation slowed.  
  
Now it's stopped and has been that way for the last hour.   
  
My medical mind is worried. The baby is going nowhere. I'm not dilated enough   
for this baby to be delivered. I can't have a C-section in the middle of a cabin - this is not a hospital.   
  
I am getting scared.   
  
After another exam, I could see Mark getting worried.  
  
Great, just what I need. The OB freaking.  
  
"It's just 2 more centimeters, Mark. Give it a little time. Maybe the baby will   
drop." Another contraction hit and I wanted to push.  
  
"You can't push. According to the sonogram, the baby's head is never going to fit   
even if he or she dropped. There's no choice but C-Section."  
  
Shit. I glance out the window. The slightly overcast September sky has turned   
dark, as if predicting the turn of events. Mulder has turned to talk to the doctor himself,   
asking questions like how the hell are we going to do this' and I think back to why we're   
having this baby now in the first place.   
  
What if they' catch up? I still am unsure about who they' is. As I look at the   
stormy sky, it seems like a trail of smoke has inhabited the clouds, turning their usual   
white gray. Smoke . . .   
  
Another contraction comes. This baby wants out and it's not going to happen the   
natural way.  
  
I want my mommy.  
  
I glance back out at the sky. I need everything to be okay.   
I need Beth' to be okay.  
  
Did I just say Beth'? Mulder's name has attached itself to my brain. But hell if   
I'll name a little boy Andrew.'  
  
I hear rain start to fall against the window panes.  



	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Chapter 10******  


  
It's amazing how fast things can get done. It seemed that one minute I was   
worrying a hell of a lot about needing a C-Section far from a hospital then the next minute it was happening.  
  
I've never seen anyone more nervous then Mulder.  
  
Well, besides myself that is.  
  
Mark had contacts and that at least put my mind a little bit more at ease. In a half   
an hour there were three more people in the room, and I was already prepped. I spent five minutes discussing' the choice of anesthetic and won my argument with a spinal. I   
wanted to be aware of what was going on - it was my body.  
  
It was still raining, the dark clouds giving their all. I saw Mulder with a suspicious   
eye and had almost forgotten why this birth had become rushed in the first place.  
  
Can anything in my life be simple anymore?  
  
Not since the X-Files, that's for sure. Not that I would trade this for a job in the   
medical profession. Mulder had told me to "go be a doctor" once, and part of me had   
wondered what would have happened if that was the path I chose to take.  
  
Oh, well, no use wondering about "what ifs."  
  
"Ready for this, Scully?"  
  
I look up to find Mulder dressed in scrub wear and I know there's no turning back   
now. I am going to be a parent in just a few minutes.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be."  
  
And it begins. I feel as if I'm holding my breath as the doctor makes the first   
incision. I notice Mulder is looking away. Funny he was never squeamish during   
autopsies; then again it was never a living breathing person that you knew and loved.   
  
The idea of names was running through my head when felt something being lifted   
out of me. I couldn't help but feel a little empty at that point. I had been pregnant for   
nine months and now it was over.   
  
"It's a girl," I hear Mark say but I'm drawn to the fact that the little human, not yet   
even cleaned off and crying her little head off, was mine. All the years I pictured   
becoming a mother never prepared me for this moment. I felt more happy and proud then I ever did. The excitement was making me lightheaded.  
  
"Oh my God, Scully, we have a little girl," I heard Mulder murmur. He, too, is   
glued to our child as it there were nothing else in the world that mattered.  
  
At that moment, there is nothing else.  
  
I'm speechless, overjoyed, and actually a bit dizzy.   
  
I see my little girl being moved out of my site and vaguely notice someone cleaning   
her and handing her to Mulder, but things seem a bit out of focus.   
  
" . . . a little bleeding . . ."  
  
I hear words around me but there are jumbled and make no sense. Mulder is   
holding our daughter and being ushered away. I think he is . . . don't take the baby away.   
  
Things suddenly become dark.  
  
  
Some time later  
  
The first thing I notice is soft sheets. Like the ones that were on the bed Mulder   
and I had been sleeping in. The next thing I notice is pain. Not bad pain, but enough pain that I'd be sore for awhile, I figured. My mother had a C-Section. With me actually. I remember she said it wasn't a picnic. At least I was feeling. I was okay, I figured, even though I could still feel an IV running into my left arm and could hear a heart monitor beeping softly in the background.  
  
I opened my eyes.  
  
Mulder was sitting in a rocking chair, holding a little bundle, and softly singing.  
  
I never thought I'd see that. I stir a bit more and Mulder stops, and realizes he's   
been caught. He blushes and I know, then, that he'll be a great father. I wonder why I   
even thought he'd hate the idea. For day one, he's been the most supportive enthusiastic guy a woman could have. Yet, he's blushing at being caught in a rocking chair with his daughter, singing.   
  
There are worse things you could be caught doing, Mulder. A couple of tapes   
comes to mind along with a mental note to do a quick inventory when we get home. Then again, he had seemed to kick that habit when he and I started doing the real thing.  
  
"Scully, she's beautiful." He gets up and I notice the cast on his hand for the first   
time (yikes, guess he did break something) and carries the bundle to the bed, sitting down next to me, and pulling aside the blanket.   
  
She's perfect. I've never seen a more perfect child in my life.   
  
I know I'm being partial, but I don't care.   
  
She's my daughter.  
  
Wow.  
  
Mulder is beaming, and I think back to when I woke up. I have no idea how I got   
here; it's big void. Something went wrong, I figured.   
  
"Mulder, what happened?"  
  
He looks up from our daughter. "You just bled a little after delivery. The doctor   
says you'll be fine, but that you have to take it easy for awhile. He also recommends that we let nature take its course for the next one though."  
  
Next one? Did I just hear that?  
  
"You want more kids, Mulder?"  
  
"Of course I do. A whole set of kids. Why? Are you surprised?"  
  
"A little," I admit. One baby was one thing, but many others were another. Then   
again, why am I surprised. Mulder has shocked me over the years. Many times. I should be used to it.   
  
He sighs and hands me the baby. I breath in her scent and get my first look at her.   
She has a full head of brown hair, like her father, but other then that, I'm not sure who   
she resembles.  
  
"She has your nose, Scully." I look up at Mulder. "I wasn't sure about this whole   
idea, at first. I didn't think that I'd be a good enough father."  
  
"Mulder-" I start, but he interrupts me.   
  
"But now, I'm ready to give it a try. As long as you are. I'd be ready to give   
another one or two a try, too."  
  
"Well, let's get past one at a time, Mulder."  
  
"I meant what I said when I asked you to marry me, Scully. I mean, we've done   
the kid thing.' Marriage should be a piece of cake. Hell, you even win with the name.   
We can call her Anne."  
  
I look from my daughter to Mulder.   
  
"No, you win, Mulder. Beth has grown on me. Elizabeth Anne. And marriage   
will make my mother very happy. Me, too." Mulder smiles. I swear he knew in advance   
I'd cave in. "But I name the next one. No questions asked."  
  
"As long as it's not Fox, we have a deal."  
  
I run my hand over my baby's tiny toes. Suddenly, my eyes catch something.   
  
"Mulder."  
  
"What?" His eyes are draw to my hand.   
  
"What's that look like to you?" I point to a mark on the bottom of her foot. It's   
looks like a puncture of some kind, and I'm panicking. I subconsciously reach up to the   
back of my neck.  
  
Mulder just shakes his head. "It's nothing, Scully. At least, not what you think. I   
had Mark draw blood, just so we could run a check on her. Make sure everything's   
okay."  
  
I relax. I should have known that. Geez, Dana, you're only a doctor. "Then it's   
over?" My voice is unsure and sounds much like a child asking that question to her   
mother right after the doctor's given her a shot.   
  
"I wouldn't say that. Nothing seems to be over for us."  
  
I look back down at Beth, and see her blue eyes looking at me. I think about   
calling my mother. I think about getting her baptized (there's my Catholic upbringing). I   
think about the joy I'll see in my mother's eyes when I tell her I'm getting married. I think about Beth's first day of school, of what kind of person she is going to be. Of what kind of life she's going to lead.   
  
I only want the best for her. I suddenly wish everything would settle. Mulder and   
I may not have the X-Files, but we still have every bit of conspiracy surrounding us. He's looking for the truth.   
  
I didn't know what I was looking for.  
  
But somehow I think I've found it in Beth's eyes.  
  
"The End"  
For now.   
  
I started this story over a year ago. It was a hard story for me to complete. I was slightly turned off the X-File for a short time this year and suffered bouts of writer's block, but after watching "Requiem" I felt inspired to complete it. As so I have. However, this may just be the beginning. I am considering turning this story into the beginning of a series of stories that spawn off into an Alternate Universe after the 6th season episode, "The Ghosts That Stole Christmas." The next will probably be told from Mulder's point of view and involve Scully, Mulder, and baby in a life together as a family and something that will always remain, Mulder's quest for the truth. I'd love to hear from readers about that idea.   
  
Thank you everyone who has helped on the long journey to complete this story.  
Feedback is appreciated at [][1]JenR13@aol.com   


   [1]: mailto:JenR13@aol.com



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